


augen auf

by takenbynumbers



Series: Pretend The World Has Ended [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29894949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takenbynumbers/pseuds/takenbynumbers
Summary: Post AC - a few times Tseng has encountered Vincent.
Relationships: Tseng/Vincent Valentine
Series: Pretend The World Has Ended [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198304
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	augen auf

**Author's Note:**

> i may add to this...at some point. really up the rating, you know.

When he comes to, groggy and pained, he sees twin crimson eyes peering at him from under messy black hair. The bandana contrasts like nothing Tseng has seen up close and he’s reminded of blood splattered on tarmac, someone’s life pouring from their still twitching form.

“You’re awake.” The voice is a low, gravelly rumble, like he’s fighting his own vocal cords -shredded and raw, not unlike someone who spent half a lifetime screaming. Tseng is all-too familiar with wrecked vocals.

“So it would appear.” Tseng’s voice isn’t faring better, and he hears Elena approach and her wide-eyed look of concern replaces all that red and black.

“Tseng! _Finally_ , there’s a lot to talk about…”

*  
  
  
When he gets back to Rufus, he doesn’t expect to see Vincent Valentine again. After all, he’s still technically working with Rufus, and he knows how he feels about the entire Shinra family. Honestly, he can relate, but what else is Tseng going to do? His plan – post Meteor, post-Geostigma is this – work his way (back) into Reeve’s good graces, land a job at the WRO full-time and figure out everything else from there. His loyalty to Rufus only goes so far, and Rufus knows this. That their time is limited, that Tseng needs _something_ more than what he has with the rest of his Turk family.

So when he’s standing outside the building, trying to light his cigarette, he’s surprised when a flame suddenly appears in front of him and he’s once again face to face with Vincent.

(After he reunited with the others, he sought out Veld, and questioned him for hours. About Vincent, about what had happened, everything he’s only gotten bits and pieces of information about. And Tseng _knows_ , knows the role he played in Veld’s life after Vincent had ‘died’. Knows he was merely shaped as a pale imitation of the man that Veld had _loved_.)

“In the neighborhood?” Tseng asks quietly after inhaling, blowing smoke to the side. He’s surprised to see Vincent in a charcoal grey three-piece suit, an old-fashioned pocket watch chain visibly hanging from the button of his waistcoat. The shirt – a deep burgundy – contrasts with the black tie tied neatly into a Balthus knot

“You could say that.” That same voice, he just – Tseng looks off in the distance, over Vincent’s shoulder and doesn’t think about the wisps of hair and how they might feel sifted through his fingers.

“Here to see Veld?” Tseng doesn’t mean for the bitterness to seep into his question, but it’s _there_ , and he’s not apologizing for feeling the way he does.

“No. Reeve. I do odd jobs for him.”

Tseng just stands there, doesn’t acknowledge that he’s even heard what Vincent says before he turns and walks off.

  
He ignores the low chuckle he hears as he’s leaving.

*  
  
“Do you ever sleep?”

Tseng jerks at the sound, gun already in hand and pointed at Vincent. He’s dressed far more casually – the black shirt and customary leather pants. There’s no red cloak, but the bandana is in place – not that it looks like it keeps any hair out of Vincent’s eyes, kind of like Reno’s goggles. Crouched on the table next to the window, he looks for all intents and purposes like a temple statue. All black with only the gold talons and red, skin paler than usual against the backdrop of so much _darkness_. The talons of Vincent’s gauntlet _click click_ against the table where he’s perched and Tseng notes the saboteurs have been replaced by plain black boots. A casual surprise break-in, then.

“I sleep plenty.”

“No, you don’t.”

Sighing, he shoves the gun back under his pillow after switching the safety back on and falls back against the bed. Vincent moves swiftly off the table and before Tseng can blink, he’s being straddled.

“Do you want to spar?”

It has taken Tseng _years_ to school his face into hiding what was going on in his mind. Which is why he’s annoyed when he makes a small noise of surprise, eyes blinking questioningly up at Vincent. “I have things to do tomorrow.”

“You’re not sleeping without drinking. And you’re not doing that again tonight. Come. Show me what the new generation of Turks can do.”

Tseng wants to ask _how_ Vincent knows about his vices. It’s not visible in the small apartment – he’s meticulous in his upkeep. But he doubts he’ll get an answer, and so with some nudging, he gets Vincent to move off him and gets out of bed, pulling on a simple cotton t-shirt and grabs his knives and holster, arming himself as he normally would, and deciding to tie his hair back. _Just_ in case.

“I don’t have any blanks.”

“Doesn’t matter. I heal easily.”

“…Will you use blanks?”

“Do you want me to?”

A moment of hesitation, and Tseng finally smiles. It’s small, but it’s there. “No.”

“Then put on your shoes and let’s go.”

And outside, in the quiet grounds, away from the building, he can feel his pulse start to race, adrenaline making itself known. His clothes are easier to move in, far more relaxed than his day-to-day suits, allowing him to execute moves he hasn’t attempted in years. Tseng can see the mirrored moves in Vincent – a sweep of the leg, an elegant grab and throw into the tree. Landing with a grunt, he manages to throw a knife and it lands in Vincent’s shoulder. He growls, and Tseng hasn’t been this aroused and _concerned for his safety_ in his entire life.

Moving out of the way just before he hears bullets ripping through bark, Tseng springs to his feet, lunging at Vincent. It’s not that Vincent is _stronger_ in arm-to-arm – they’re surprisingly well-matched – it’s his _speed_. And there’s a swirl of black and hints of gold and red before he’s pinned to the ground.

“You smell good.”

“That’s a bit creepy, Valentine,” Tseng says breathlessly, feeling the claws dig into the flesh of his upper arm. He watches as Vincent lets go of him with one hand and settles on top of his chest, pulling his glove off with his teeth.

“I’ve been called worse.”

He’s aching all over, for _very_ different reasons and it’s hard to reconcile the violence with the tender touch of long, cool fingers running over his cheek and through his hair where Tseng has tied it up.

“Vincent…”

“Until next time.”

And then he’s _gone_ , and Tseng is left laying on the ground, gazing up at the night sky. A small smile is on his face, and he thinks maybe – _maybe_ – he can sleep now.


End file.
